When We Were Innocents
by queen of the imps
Summary: I was a Gryffindor, you were a Slytherin. We weren't supposed to have anything to do with one another. But dammit, we were lonely. Sirius Black / Barty Crouch Jr., implied Sirius / Remus


Author's Note: I wrote this because of an RP plot I've been doing in an RPG I'm in (annwnanon on LJ… feel free to apply! WE NEED A LUPIN! AND A LUCIUS!). Me and the Barty-mun created this whole backstory for Sirius and Barty where they were involved as teenagers just as they were each discovering their sexuality. So I ended up making a fic.

This came out blander than I hoped. I may rewrite this from Barty's POV. Hm…

- - - -

Disclaimer: I do not own Sirius Black or Barty Crouch Jr. They, and the rest of the Harry Potter universe, belong to JK Rowling. Who SLAUGHTERED THEM BOTH. (J/K, JK!)

- - - -

"My father doesn't understand me, either."

That was the first real thing you'd ever said to me. Outside of a mumbled greeting when you'd walked into the house, this was first time I'd heard you address me.

"My mum's not so bad. She likes me. But my dad doesn't." You seemed aware of just how awkward you sounded, and you looked at the ground. It was a little strange; when you talked to Regulus or greeted my parents, you had the same haughty arrogance as all of the other Slytherins. Now you seemed embarrassed and uncomfortable talking to me - - me, a blood traitor.

"My mum's worse," I answered. "She's only been quiet since you're here, and your family's respectable. When she stops putting up appearances, she's a monster. Yells the whole bloody house down."

"Yeah?" you asked, surprised at this description. She could put on a good show, my mother, but only me and Regulus and Father knew what a temper she had. And only I understood what a monster she was.

"Yeah." You were still standing in the doorway to my room; you didn't seem to want to come in, and you didn't seem to want to leave. Calmly, I asked, "Where's Regulus?"

"Downstairs," you said, and you seemed to realize that was your cue to leave. Without another word, you turned away and walked down the long flight of stairs, the thumps of your footsteps reverberating up to my walls.

- - - -

You were just another example of the kind of respectable Slytherin friend that my brother had acquired, the kind of friend I was supposed to have but didn't. You were a little extra special in my parent's eyes because your father was so powerful; yes, he was opposing Voldemort, but still, wasn't it good for Regulus to be making such important connections so early in life?

I don't know what kind of friendship you two had. I didn't really care. Your friendship was a mystery I didn't care to investigate, because I knew that the answer would be dull and bland, no matter how often Regulus insisted that everyone keep out of his room when he had friends over.

You seemed to like it at our place. Maybe you and Regulus were better friends than I thought, but I always figured that you were trying to hide. A few hours at our place was a few hours away your house and your family. We were a refuge.

It was kind of strange to me; you kept running to the very place I was trying so hard to escape.

Over summer and winter breaks, if your father had a business trip and your mother went along, you would always stay with us. My parents _loved _guests that were pureblood and respectable, so they were always extra-cordial when you stayed, making sure Kreacher cooked something nice. The last thing they wanted was for another important pureblood family to think they were lackluster simply because their kid had a bad time at their house.

I mostly just hid in my room during all this, just like I always did. I saw you when we were all summoned down for dinner, but that was it. You and Regulus could have your little sleepover or whatever, plotting the downfall of wizarding society in between pillowfights or whatever it was you did in there. Me, I just wanted to be left alone.

It wasn't until Father and I had an enormous argument that you stopped at my doorway and spoke to me. I didn't really understand why you cared, or why you would leave my brother's side to talk to me. But that was just the start.

- - - -

Summer and winter breaks were always torture. During the school year, I was with all of my friends, causing mischief and laughing and generally just having a good time. So to be summoned home again was always a depressing affair; I wasn't even allowed to have my friends over, because they were all shameful _Gryffindors_ (and one was even a _half-blood_! Gasp! Shock! Awe!)

So I spent my breaks from school hiding in my room, inventing new things to do while I avoided my family like the plague. I sent loads of letters to James and Remus and Peter, telling them just how bored I was and how much I wished I was spending the summer with one of them and to please, _please_ send letters back.

Regulus, of course, was allowed to have friends over all the time. His friends were all proper Slytherin pure-bloods, with respectable families and pedigrees and bright futures ahead of them. You weren't the only one. There was Rosier and Wilkes and Avery, all of them just as snotty and respectable as their parents. Part of me half-expected Snape to come by for a visit, at which point I would be forced to commit murder.

You were the only one I ever really talked to. Probably because you were the only one to ever approach me. Honestly, I don't think I would have said two words to you if you hadn't been the one to keep coming into my room.

- - - -

It was always during your long stays that you came in, and it was always after everyone else had gone to sleep. I always stayed up until insane hours, blasting Stubby Boardman and the Hobgoblins on my radio just to piss my parents off. Those were when I'd glance up and see you standing there in the doorway, watching me. To be honest, it was kind of creepy.

You'd make some innocuous comments about the music I was listening to, and it would always be something stupid. I don't think you'd ever heard the Hobgoblins before you met me, to be honest. And I would say something minimal in reply, knowing that wasn't why you'd come in the first place.

It always ended up on the same topics. Your father. My father. Your mother. My mother. It seemed that you didn't fit in with the Crouches in much the same way I didn't fit in with the Blacks. And, although you would never say so, it seemed like you were desperately lonely; the other Slytherins associated so strongly with their families and bloodlines that you knew they would never understand the disconnect you felt.

I guess that's where I figured in. You should have hated me. I was a blood traitor and proud of it, prancing around with other blood traitors at school and saying blasphemous things about Voldemort and those that shared his beliefs. But I didn't fit in with my family, and you needed someone who wouldn't shun you for feeling the same about your relatives, and especially your father.

Maybe I should have kicked you out. I don't know. If this was at school, I would have done it in a heartbeat. But this wasn't school… and being at home, surrounded by people who didn't understand, … dammit, I was _lonely_.

So we talked.

- - - -

At school we never acknowledged each other. We didn't have many chances to, really. We were in different years and different houses, and we had completely different sets of friends. The few times we were in the other's vicinity, we acted as onlookers would expect us to. I ignored you in favor of my far more entertaining friends. You sneered at me like the blood traitor I was.

It worked out best for everyone that way.

- - - -

It was strange, how such an innocuous comment could have such dramatic consequences. At least for the two of us.

"…he doesn't approve of my grades or my friends or my hobbies," you moaned in yet another rant about your father. I'd learned to tolerate them, simply because I figured my own tirades were just as monotonous to listen to. "And those are only the things I tell him about. Merlin only knows what he'd think if he knew everything. I'd…"

"Be disowned," I finished for him. "Then don't tell him. That's the simplest answer."

"Yeah," you agreed, mumbling. "Still, can't help but worry he'll find out all on his own. He wouldn't approve of how I act at school, or who I talk to, or who I _fancy_, or…"

Your cheeks turned red and you looked away, which I didn't fail to notice.

Grinning, I asked, "Fancy some Muggleborn girl?" Wouldn't that be interesting. Barty Jr. of the pureblood elite, getting attached to a Muggleborn. But you shook your head.

"'S a pureblood. That's not the problem." You were practically mumbling.

"Then what is?"

You didn't answer. Instead, you gave me a hasty excuse and were out the door faster than I could comprehend. I just sat there, surprised, as Stubby's voice reverberated throughout the room.

- - - -

It didn't take me very long to figure out what was up. What you had been so embarrassed about.

I'd had my own issues with who I fancied and why and what people might think about it. Because while I shared an admiration for breasts and the girls attached to them with the other boys my age, I couldn't help but also admire the physiques of my fellow males at times. To my initial horror, I'd even had some passing thoughts about my own friends, and doing things with them that weren't supposed to be natural.

So your embarrassed exit didn't faze me. If anything, it piqued my curiosity.

At the time, I was more than a little into experimenting with the people that I was attracted to… but so far, they had all been girls. And perhaps I was being an opportunistic bastard by deciding to start taking my experiments further with someone I knew had feelings for me… but at the time, I didn't think that far. It was just another reckless thing I wanted to try, and I knew you would be a willing participant.

I managed to swipe some of my father's mead one of the nights you were staying over; as it turned out, neither of us had much tolerance for alcohol. And considering our minds… or mine, anyway… were already thinking on carnal subjects, it really wasn't that shocking that our clothes ended up being shed during our drunken fun.

By the time I woke up, you were already gone from my room. Slytherins must always maintain appearences, after all, and what would Regulus think if he awoke and you weren't there? Might he creep down the fall and find you in his big brother's bed? I doubt you'd have avoided being disowned if word of _that_ spread to your father's ears.

Yet somehow, time and again, you managed to sneak into my room and between my sheets. Not that I minded. If anything, I was enjoying what I figured to be some regular experimentation. And honestly, that's all I thought of it as. Two kids fooling around.

- - - -

Experimentation could only hold my interest for so long. Maybe it's because I was just easily bored, or maybe I just naturally wanted someone for more than just sex. Maybe you were just a stepping stone on the way to what I was really looking for. It's callous, but it's possible.

Because even if you did make my summer breaks more tolerable, you were still a Slytherin. And even if you knew what it was like to feel distant from the people that called themselves your family, you were still a pureblood elitist who never would have given a shit about me if you weren't lonely.

And Remus… Remus was light and laughter and good times and warmth. There was lust, yes, but there was also the way my heart actually fluttered, yes, _fluttered_ when he walked into a room. I didn't want to just fuck him, I wanted to be with him every seconds of every day. When I lay with you after sex, I just felt sated. When I lay with him, I felt love.

- - - -

The winter break after I began my more-than-platonic relationship with Remus, you came to stay with us again. It seemed that even Christmas was a busy time for Ministry business, so your father was away yet again, dragging your mother and house elf along. So you came back to your old refuge at 12 Grimmauld Place, where you had your friend and the boy that you slept with when backs were turned.

Only this time, I wasn't receptive to your presence. I started locking my door at nights so you couldn't sneak in, and did my best to avoid you during the day. I think you were hurt, but you never said anything. How could you tell anyone? You'd be disgraced if you were found out, so you suffered in silence.

Maybe I should have explained to you. But you were a Slytherin, a future Death Eater, and I didn't want to risk an attempt at retaliation. If I'd thought you'd take your revenge on me, I might not have cared, but I wouldn't risk you hurting Remus.

You looked like a kicked puppy every time you glanced my way. I had to pretend nothing was going on, or else it would spoil things for both of us. It was for the best. At least, that's what I told myself.

- - - -

I didn't see you at 12 Grimmauld Place after that. Early next summer, I broke away from my family permanently and didn't look back. From then on, I was practically the Potters' second son, and I couldn't care less about what I'd left behind.

Maybe you were hurt by that, too. I don't know. I never found out. All I knew was that at school, you treated me with the appropriate amount of disdain. I stopped being a person and became a traitor.

Every time I passed you and Regulus and your group of friends, you always wore a sneer on your face. I didn't care. You were a disgrace to your family's ideals as well; I just had the guts to let the world know.

- - - -

The last time I ever saw you, you were sick and weak as the Dementors dragged you past my cell. The little parade of characters being marched before me began with dear cousin Bella, her head held high as they brought her through. You were the last; they practically had to carry you in.

Even though you were sick, you were still awake. You moaned a little whenever you were jostled on the journey, and your eyes flickered back and forth at the faces that stared at you. We must have all looked alike, grubby and mangy with eyes wild from the insanity brought from incarceration.

Somehow, even though it had been years, your eyes found mine. As you were dragged along, I could see the recognition in your expression as you tried to look at me even while the Dementors kept going. I watched you as long as I could before you slinked into the darkness at the end of the hallway, off to be locked in where no one could find you.

Your eyes had looked desperate. Like you were pleading.

Like you thought I could save you.


End file.
